


Family Outing

by KINGBeerZ



Series: An Elf, A Dwarf and A Man [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dwarven Politics, Dwarves, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Gen, Provings, Silent Sisters, Trian is such a turd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 22:24:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12616860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KINGBeerZ/pseuds/KINGBeerZ
Summary: Beneath the Frostback Mountains of Ferelden lies the dwarven capital city of Orzammar, one of only two surviving Great Thaigs of the dwarven people. Orzammar is a truly unique city carved out from the rock in an enormous cavern, lit and warmed by a great river of lava, the city itself is both a wonder of nature and of dwarven ingenuity. In the centre of the city across a great bridge spanning the lava river lies the proving arena. It is within this arena that the ancestors speak, guiding those they favour to victory in combat. The dwarven princess Skala Aeducan found herself here in 9:19 dragon watching the Provings being held in honour of the twenty three years her father had sat the throne.Skala Aeducan enjoys a 'pleasant' day at the Provings with her Father and Brothers, Ancestors preserve her.





	Family Outing

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here's part two of the series, the intro fic for my second warden, Skala Aeducan. As is highlighted here she is a fair bit older than Mithos, but I feel like Aeducan wardens are kind of the oldest of any origin (and mages the youngest with the possible exception of City Elves), so I think that's fair. Writing the dynamics between the siblings was a lot of fun, especially Bhelen, or as I call him Dwarf Augustus (seriously the parallels are there). Anyway if you guys like this fic please leave a comment, I'd love to talk about it with all of you. If anyone enjoys my writing it makes me really happy.

Beneath the Frostback Mountains of Ferelden lies the dwarven capital city of Orzammar, one of only two surviving Great Thaigs of the dwarven people. Orzammar is a truly unique city carved out from the rock in an enormous cavern, lit and warmed by a great river of lava, the city itself is both a wonder of nature and of dwarven ingenuity. In the centre of the city across a great bridge spanning the lava river lies the proving arena. It is within this arena that the ancestors speak, guiding those they favour to victory in combat. The dwarven princess Skala Aeducan found herself here in 9:19 dragon watching the Provings being held in honour of the twenty three years her father had sat the throne.

Stone crunched against steel as a great maul smashed into the ground, the target, an armoured dwarven woman had nimbly hopped out of range moments before. The close call raised exclamations from many in the crowd yet the woman herself remained completely silent.   
“Dace doesn’t stand a chance here.” Skala’s younger brother Bhelen muttered to her. Skala had to agree. The young noble had the ill fortune to be paired up against a Silent Sister in the second round, their refusal to concede a fight unless through death and their devotion to house Aeducan tipping the scales further in the woman’s favour, even without taking into account her superior skills.   
“Goes without saying.” She replied as the Silent Sister dashed quickly to the young Noble, not granting him space to swing his heavy maul, before delivering a series of brutal punches to his chest and neck.   
“Oooh, he’ll be feeling that tomorrow!” Bhelen snarked. The man in question tried to force the pugilist back with the handle of his maul only for her to grab his lightly armoured wrists. Skala realized she must be squeezing exceedingly hard, considering the man dropped his maul and starting releasing wild howls of pain, Skala almost imagined hearing a sickening crack as well. The Sister then shot out a boot, knocking the man onto his back on the hard stone of the arena floor. The Silent Sister was declared the victor and the young Noble was hurriedly carried out of the arena. Skala’s father, King Endrin rose from his seat in the royal box.  
“The ancestors smile upon your victory Catra, and house Aeducan thanks you for your dedication this day!” His voice echoed throughout the Proving Arena. Skala had always admired the way her father could carry his word across even the most chaotic environs without having to shout as lesser men might. He claimed it was essential for dealing with the Senate. The victor bowed her head in deference towards the king before striding confidently out of the proving arena, her attendant hurrying to meet her as she exited through the great stone doors to the competitor preparation area.

As her father sat he turned towards her, greying braided moustache swinging.  
“How are you finding the Provings daughter?” He softly inquired. Skala thought for a moment.  
“Foran Dace was unlucky to be pitted against such a strong fighter, it wouldn’t surprise me if Catra wins the day.” She said flatly.  
“Oh Sister, so little faith in our beloved brother.” Bhelen interjected, keen to stir up some trouble. She shot her younger brother a glare and he simply burst into laughter, King Endrin silenced them both by clearing his throat.  
“Skala, do you not believe your brother Trian will be victorious today?” Skala took a moment to weigh her words carefully before proceeding.  
“Trian is only nineteen… there are many here today who far outstrip him in experience. Some of Orzammar’s finest warriors, I don’t doubt Trian, I’m just being realistic about those he faces.” Skala explained. Her father looked at her pensively, until Bhelen interjected again.  
“Oh, but Skala what about the favour of the Ancestors, these Provings are for father and our house, shouldn’t it be his son that emerges victorious?” Skala rolled her eyes at Bhelen.  
“Perhaps if it were a serious matter being decided today, but I doubt the Ancestors trouble themselves overmuch for these Provings.” Bhelen looked as if he were about to make another smart comment when the announcer’s booming voice interrupted.

“This is a Glory Proving fought under the watchful eyes of the Paragons of Orzammar for the honour of House Aeducan.” A hush fell over the crowd as conversations died all over in anticipation of the next bout.  
“Introducing Lord Trian of House Aeducan, son of King Endrin Aeducan, he will be fighting against Ser Blackstone, pride of the warrior caste, newly returned from his fourth successful foray into the Deep Roads!” The crowd erupted into raucous cheers. For their prince and a great hero to fight was certainly worthy entertainment. Skala could see in the Proving arena some words being spoken between the two but the distanced deafened her to them. The difference between the two combatants was easily apparent. Although both were armed and armoured similarly Trian’s armour had been polished to a mirror sheen, whereas Ser Blackstone’s showed numerous dents and bright scratches over the metal. Trian’s maul was a masterwork of House Aeducan’s craftsmen, in comparison Ser Blackstone’s was a mishappen lump of metal tied to a stick. Skala’s eyes could pick out the differences between the two easily enough, yet she also noticed the ease and comfort in which Ser Blackstone held himself and moved. He was clearly used to the heavy weight of his armour and the way it affected his movement, and untroubled in mind by such a bout. One who had seen the Deep Roads and darkspawn was unlikely to be intimidated easily. Trian however moved stiffly, precisely, yet with clear discomfort. He was unused to the armour and being weighed down by quite so much metal, and further burdened by the expectations of all those watching. Skala felt a fleeting moment of pity for her brother and what was about to happen.   
“First warrior to fall or concede loses, Fight!” The announcer boomed and the match began.

Both fighters began circling warily towards the centre of the arena, each wary enough to stay just outside the range of the other’s Maul. Trian gave a feint of a swing but Blackstone didn’t even flinch, merely continuing his slow circling. At once Blackstone flew forward, maul swinging in a savage arc. Trian was forced to take a hasty backstep and attempted a counterswing of his own which Blackstone easily caught on the handle of his own weapon. The two were locked handle to handle for a moment before Trian with a great roar of effort threw back Blackstone, unlocking the stalemate and panting with exertion. Trian pushed through his exhaustion and started to wildly swing his Maul at the Deep Roads veteran, with a series of blows raining upon him Blackstone was forced to gradually give way, Skala could see his face scrunched in concentration against Trian’s barrage. The princess realized that Blackstone was trying to tire Trian. Unused to fighting in full heavy armour against a very skilled opponent Trian would soon wear himself out and leave an opening. Trian must have sensed the same as he tried ever more desperately to break through Blackstone’s impregnable guard, blows flying more wildly. With a deafening clang Trian managed to break through Blackstone’s guard, and with a shout of triumph, thrust forward with his maul, impacting the warrior full in the chest. Blackstone coughed violently, and spat some blood onto the arena’s stone floor. Then he brought around his own Maul in a violent horizontal swing, heavily impacting into Trian’s side and flinging him to the ground with a crunch of metal and scream of pain. Skala heard an intake of breath from her father, before Trian struggled towards a sitting position which seemed to calm him. The announcer proclaimed Ser Blackstone as the victor as the warrior reached down in order to offer Trian a hand in standing. From where she was Skala couldn’t see Trian’s face but she could imagine that it must have taken on that same frustrated scrunch it always did when he did not get his way. The two combatants exited the field, both far less smooth of pace than they had entered. Although Trian’s limp was far more pronounced. Her Father sat in silence for some minutes until eventually Trian made his way into the royal box, clearly favouring his right side.

“You fought well Trian.” Endrin said slowly.  
“Not nearly well enough.” He muttered angrily and red faced.   
“Well, our dear sister never had any faith in your chances.” Bhelen unhelpfully offered. Trian turned a baleful look towards Skala, who met it with a firm gaze of her own, she wasn’t about to let Trian get his way and goad her into a fight with a temper tantrum.  
“What I said, was that you were against opponents far more experienced, you fought well enough, you did nearly best Ser Blackstone.” She mollified her brother.  
“Still the ancestors clearly did not favour me today.” He muttered bitterly. Father clapped him on the shoulder.  
“Trian, take no shame in your loss, I am proud of your performance on my behalf against such a seasoned warrior.” The praise seemed to calm Trian further, Skala reflected that needing to be calmed down like this from a single loss was a poor trait for one who wished to be King of Orzammar. 

Appeased by her father’s praise Trian finally settled down enough to take his seat in the royal box and observe the rest of the fights. Although he took to the irritating habit of scoffing or casting derogatory comments at the fighters between rounds, actively ignoring the fact that many of those he critiqued were far more skilled than he was. Finally when Skala was feeling truly sick of her brother’s sour whining the final bout began. The match was between Ser Blackstone and the Silent Sister Catra, after a long and drawn out fight Catra finally emerged victorious, seizing the honour of victory. Trian snorted rudely.  
“Hah, she was only able to overcome Blackstone due to the wounds I had inflicted earlier!” He haughtily remarked. Skala rolled her eyes reflecting on the numerous injuries the silent sister had accrued herself and decided that she highly doubted Trian’s blow had truly been the deciding factor. He must have seen Skala’s eye roll as moments later Trian had turned to her glaring fiercely.  
“Oh, and you assume you could do better little sister.” He spat, stressing the descriptive. Skala refused to rise to his bait so easily.  
“Perhaps, Father said he would not permit our competing in these Provings until we come of age, so for now it really doesn’t matter.” She replied nonchalantly, giving a nod to her father. This seemed to only further anger Trian.  
“Oh of course it doesn’t, I doubt you’ll even compete when you do come of age, likely you’ll be too afraid, worried you’ll embarrass yourself.” He sneered as he went on. Skala took a deep breath. Don’t. Be. Baited. She’d seen far too many who had fallen to their own tempers in the tempest of Orzammar noble politics.  
“Maybe you’re right, brother, but as I said you have another two years to prepare for the possibility of us facing off in the Provings. Perhaps you can work on not leaving your guard far too low.” Skala couldn’t deny the satisfaction of seeing Trian sputter in annoyance at this comment. He never watched the details in battle, and he assumed no one else did.  
“Trian, Skala that is quite enough, you are a prince and princess of Orzammar, and I expect better of you.” Endrin admonished. Both siblings bowed their heads in acquiescence whilst Bhelen sniggered in the background. 

After this followed the concluding ceremonies of the Provings. At which King Endrin awarded the champion with her prize, a masterwork pair of gauntlets which the finest smiths of House Aeducan had been working on for the past week (somewhat presumptuously modelled on Trian’s measurements). There was an exchange between Catra and her translator before said translator claimed that Catra needed the gauntlets to be adjusted slightly were she to fight properly in them. Skala could see Trian and Bhelen both struggling to hold their emotions in check out of the corner of her eye, as Bhelen tried not to laugh and Trian forced down his rage. She felt an amused smirk creeping onto her face in response. 

The procession back to the Diamond quarter was a noisy affair, with dozens of nobles all crowding her father and Trian, asking for their thoughts on the day’s Provings. Endrin granted short but courteous answers, Trian only gave annoyed grunts and dark stares. Meanwhile countless merchants shouted for the royal party’s attention, proclaiming the quality of their goods. A few nobles drifted away to examine the wares but most continued doggedly hovering around Skala’s father and brother.   
“Feeling jealous of the attention sister?” Bhelen cheekily remarked. Skala gave a curt shake of her head.  
“I don’t think I’ll ever know how father manages all of them, you’d think the inane politics and attention would drive most mad.”  
“Or drive a knife through their hearts.” Bhelen added with a smirk.  
“At least Trian seems happy enough to take over after Father.” Although Skala didn’t think she’d ever understand why, the throne was just an uncomfortable chair and endless headaches.   
“He does seem fairly worried that you’ll try to snatch it from him.”  
“Then Trian needs to learn to use his eyes and brain more.” Elsewhise Skala might need to take the throne after some upstart lopped off his head whilst he was too distracted preening his own ego. Bhelen chuckled lightly in response to Skala’s comment.  
“Oh yes, Trian will take the throne, or maybe lose it. Meanwhile you’ll be off smashing darkspawn and reclaiming lost Thaigs, and expanding the empire, just like you’ve always wanted.” Skala sighed in response, looking around at the city. Grandiose as Orzammar was the constant use of it was starting to show, from chipped and cracked masonry to steps worn too smooth, to places where walls had broken, letting lava flow irregularly.   
“We can’t stay holed up in Orzammar forever Bhelen, much as some would like to.” Bhelen groaned loudly.  
“Uuurgh, and there you are being dull as dirt again, tell you what sister, how about you go back to picking on Trian’s maul-work. I think I nearly saw steam spurt out his ears back in the box.” Skala chuckled in spite of herself. She was fairly certain that with enough insults Trian could become a clean fuel source that would put even Paragon Branka’s genius fuel to shame.  
“You owe me ten silver if he smashes a chair when we get back to the palace.” She whispered to Bhelen, practically able to hear her little brother’s grin in response.  
“Oh, but you owe me twenty if he somehow breaks that fancy maul that Father had made for him.” Skala snorted and nodded in agreement. 

That evening Skala had to pay her little Brother twenty silver.


End file.
